


Love Is Only Sleeping

by guti



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, MLS, NYCFC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 19:32:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6252637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guti/pseuds/guti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Frank?” He says, voice barely above a whisper.  He leans over him, watching for a response.  “Eh?  Guapo?  You are asleeping?”</p><p>Frank doesn’t move.  His eyes don’t even flicker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Is Only Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neyvenger (jjjat3am)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/gifts).



> for julija, based on the prompt:
> 
>   _things you said when you thought i was asleep_
> 
> i hope you like it, dear!

The television is on still, flickering in the background, room cast in a glow that might be blinding except they both have their eyes shut and have the world mostly tuned out. God only knows what the time is, but the match’s been over for about an hour and now there’s an advertisement for a 1960’s rock and roll CD box set that’s been on repeat for awhile. There’s some aging rock star he doesn’t quite recognize— apparently a member of The Monkees?— rambling on and on about the value of this one of a kind offer. At some point, one of them put the set on mute, but the remote control fell onto the floor and under the couch, and neither could be bothered to fish it out again.

Frank considered, awhile ago, getting up and turning the set off completely, rousing David, hauling him up off the sofa and to bed. But it’s pleasant there beside him, almost strange to see him curled up on the couch. He almost looks like a child, legs pulled up under him, head resting precariously on the arm of the sofa. He looks so peaceful, not at all like the formidable force of nature he is on the pitch. It’d be a shame to interrupt such a serene sight, so Frank decides he won’t. It’s not his fault if David wakes up with a crick in his neck or his muscles aching from the awkward position.

So he closes his eyes too and makes himself comfortable, using more forethought and care in his positioning so as not to aggravate is body. He’s getting older, he knows what he can take, and a night spent sleeping in a twisted heap isn’t one of them. He stretches out, takes up as much room on the sofa as he can without kicking or otherwise disturbing David, and he’s nearly drifting off when he hears the Spaniard shift suddenly, then sit up, wide awake. Frank keeps his eyes closed.

“Ungh?” David exhales, startled. His neck is killing him. Slowly, his brain and other senses return to him, and he looks over at Frank, sprawled out beside him. It takes him a moment to blink away the last fragments of whatever he’d been dreaming and snap back to where he is and who is with him. When he does, he lets out a soft laugh and scoots around to observe him more closely.

“Frank?” He says, voice barely above a whisper. He leans over him, watching for a response. “Eh? Guapo? You are asleeping?”

Frank doesn’t move. His eyes don’t even flicker.

“You’re sound asleeping, no?” Again, no response, though Frank is vaguely tempted to wrinkle his nose. David is satisfied. He begins to make himself right at home, cuddling up on top of him like a large Asturian cat. “Is too bad you are asleeping. I was going to tell you what I was dreaming.” 

He pauses and settles down on top of him, mindful of his own weight, careful in his movements until he’s flush against him, nose to the crook of Frank’s neck.

“I had a dream about home,” he murmurs. “I had a dream about the mines.” Frank wonders if he should open his eyes, interrupt the story, but it seems like an invasion maybe. “I was stuck in the mines. Trapped. Lost, I think. No way out. But, it’s not a bad dream.”

David stops and just breathes for a moment. Frank almost thinks he’s started to fall asleep until he speaks again. “You can only do so much when you are all alone. The work is… is too much. Insurmountable? When it is just one person? You know the word. I could say it in Spanish, and you would know the word.” David laughs to himself. Frank flinches a little. “Isn’t it strange though? I knew you were coming, and it was still overwhelming, to be alone.”

He sighs, and Frank understands, knows the sort of pressure David was under in the spring, when he was scoring but the rest of the team were flatlining, before the summer brought reinforcements from abroad. He feels a little guilty about it, knows that his contract wasn’t handled properly, knows his own physical issues kept him out of the game longer than any of them had wanted. It’s all sort of his fault that David felt that way. But he’s here now. He’s in New York, he’s at David’s side, both on the field and in ways he’d never foreseen. It might’ve taken months longer than it should have, but he’s with him regardless, and they’ve got a title to win. And they have each other now. Yeah, they've got each other.

He can’t help but curl his arms around David, pull him in even tighter. David makes a noise of surprise, mutters something hasty under his breath. Frank only shushes him softly and after a second or two, he settles back down.

Frank considers if he ought to say something, go off on some ramble meant to be reassuring, meant to take the edge off of it all. But before he can find the right place to start, he hears the sound of snoring and feels warm breath on his neck. Sighing himself, he closes his eyes again and finally falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> \- as per usual, here's a [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rNyGl0babiQ) to accompany it.  
> \- there should be more MLS fic in general. just sayin'. if you write it i will read it, even if it's not my club!


End file.
